Page 43 of Magical Academy for Delinquents
"Ahh!" I reached my other hand up to shield my eyes.
Naughty Zavier took advantage and swooped down to suck the sauce off my finger. His tongue played against my fingertip, swirling and flicking.
"Zavier," I warned.
He didn't stop. And though I should have pulled my finger away from him, I couldn't. For some reason, I was stuck there, captive, until he released me when he blinked.
I glanced over at Zavier a few seconds later. I felt weird after the look we’d shared, like it had somehow messed up our light-hearted vibe. I verbally tried to stumble back to normalcy. Or the version of normalcy that Z and I had developed over the last week. "So, what's with the tattoos? Any of them mean something?"
"Bedpost notches," he grinned. He yanked down on his shirt, to reveal a bare spot on his swollen, muscular left pec. A pec he clearly waxed in order to showcase that hot body art. "But look, I left a spot just for you. Right over my heart."
I suppressed the urge to step forward and lick my spot like a five-year-old so no one else could have it. Instead, I rolled my eyes. "You are seriously so thoughtful. Now, would I get to choose the mark that you put there in my honor?" I touched my fingers together in the stereotypical ‘scheming villain’ pose.
He released his shirt and tossed his head back to laugh. "I can only imagine what you'd choose."
"How about … a squished banana? A small, bruised—"
His hand flew to his junk. “My banana is thick and ripe. And delicious.”
“You like banana? You taste banana regularly?”
He poked his fork at me. “You’re bananas if you think I eat bananas.”
Dammit, I was hoping I’d stump him. I chewed on my lip and scanned over his sleeves once more. He had a couple faces, some trees and a moon, a pocket watch, a wolf.
"Or maybe some text? Some text that's scrolly and fun and says, 'I'm a yellow turtle in a green canoe.'"
"What the hell does that even mean?"
"You'd have your entire life to figure it out. You’d get to stare at it day after day …"
"Vicious! I'm gonna Google it later."
"You do that." I'd just pulled the saying out of my ass, but it was fun watching Zavier's face search mine and then stare off into the distance, pondering what the nonsense sentence meant. When he bit his lip, I had to turn away, because I had a sudden urge to do the same thing.
Z took another bite of his lasagna as he said, “I think an elephant raising hislong, thick trunkto the sky would be a better image, don't you?"
"Nope," I deadpanned, though my eyes glittered with mirth. "You're definitely not an elephant. Though … are you telling me your dick is grey and wrinkled?"
"Maybe," he closed his lasagna container and bounced around me, reminding me of a living breathing Tigger. "You'll have to see to find out."
I shoved his shoulder and Z nearly tripped into a guy playing a guitar on the grass. The hippie vibe from the dreadlocked guy on the grass was ruined when he pulled out a pocketknife and took a swipe at Zavier.
My guy had reflexes like a cat, though, and jumped out of the way in the nick of time. Zavier reached back and grabbed my hand, yanking me forward and away from the violent hippie.
"Don't mess with Stanley," Zavier warned once we were thirty feet away.
I glanced back at the guy, who'd gone back to tuning his guitar, his open knife on his knee for all the faculty to see.
"Why not?"
Zavier shook his head. "He got beat in the head a few too many times in the pen. He won't hesitate."
"You got away."
Zavier shrugged, a red stain crawling up his neck. He toed the ground. "Let's just say I'm glad he took a swing at me and not you."
"Why? Cause I would have kicked his ass?" I raised a brow.
